


Be Not Afraid

by to_one_thing_constant_never



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Homophobic Language, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Other, Post-Canon, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Yes they're married now, author is trying their best they promise, author writes like a pretentious jerk, it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_one_thing_constant_never/pseuds/to_one_thing_constant_never
Summary: The Ineffable Cuties are exemplifying married immortal couple goals in the park, until they are very rudely interrupted. Crowley takes off his sunglasses, Aziraphale reminds a human why all Biblical encounters with angels start with "BE NOT AFRAID" and there are wings.Neil Gaiman, Terry Prattchet, David Tennant, Micheal Sheen, and God Themself  all said Gay Rights and I for one am here for it.(Please Read Notes)





	Be Not Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic for Good Omens, first work on this site, and first fiction piece in quite a long time. I've been writing fanfiction for ages, but I have been incredibly busy of late, with not much energy to write for fun. All that to say, excuse me if I'm a little rusty.  
This is by no means to make steriotypes of Christians or missionaries. I've been in the shoes of Sara Anderson before. Many of my family members speak like her when doing evangelistic work.  
Much like Aziraphale, I am learning that the words of the church are not always the words of God. I proudly proclaim myself as both queer and Christian. This work was an ode to my past and a toast to my future. I hope anyone who went through a similar bit of growth finds this well.

They sat in comfortable silence. In one hand, Aziraphale held a well-loved first edition copy of _Sense and Sensibility_; the other hand rested comfortably on Crowley’s knee. The demon seemed content to alternate between scrolling through Twitter and taunting the ducks. He would never admit it, but he was very happy to have his other hand occupied, gently rubbing his thumb over Aziraphale’s knuckles.  
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a voice said, cutting through their moment of serenity. She appeared to be about the same age as the angel’s corporation, wore a knee-length denim skirt with a loose blouse, and wore her sandy blonde hair in a modest ponytail. Crowley sighed and removed his hand from Aziraphale’s.  
“Come on, angel,” Crowley murmured. He tensed to move, but Aziraphale’s hand stayed in place on his knee. Crowley had more than half a mind to miracle them back into the Bentley, but something about the angel’s manner told him that this was going to be a show worth watching.  
“Good afternoon, Ms…” Aziraphale paused for a name. “Anderson. Sarah Anderson,” the woman replied. _Of course, she’s American on top of it,_ Crowley thought to himself (perhaps a little too loudly, as Aziraphale gave his knee a light squeeze). She flashed them both a sickly-sweet smile.  
“Well then, Ms Anderson. How may we help you?” She procured a pamphlet from her purse. “I just meant to ask: do you know the state of your soul?” Crowley couldn’t help but snort. Aziraphale gave him a warning glance, but Crowley was beyond reproach now.  
“What makes you ask that, dear?”  
“Well, when all is said and done, and Jesus and the Host of Heaven return during the End of Days—” Another snort from the demon, “—do you think you will be one of the redeemed?” She was still holding out the pamphlet, which donned the very imaginative title of “The State of Your Soul.”  
“Again, I ask,” Aziraphale was looking her dead in the eye, markedly ignoring the booklet, “What makes you ask about our souls?”  
“What? Well wouldn’t you—”  
“Pardon the interruption, Ms Anderson, but let me rephrase: What makes you feel the urge to preach about the End Times to us, specifically? After all, you were content to walk right past everyone else you came across in the park until just now.”  
“How… what?” Sarah Anderson faltered, and took a step back.  
“I’m going to ponder a guess and say it is because my husband and I have the audacity to show affection in public?” Aziraphale’s manner was just as measured and calm as at had ever been. Crowley raised an eyebrow but said nothing. An interesting show indeed. Sarah swallowed in obvious irritation before continuing.  
“Gentlemen, I know that you think you love each other. But there are children at this park and—”  
“And are you their parentsss?” Crowley snapped. “This isn’t your neighbourhood park, Ms Andersson. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but you’re in Saint James’ park, London, England, not Gillet’s Castle State Park, Connecticut, United States.” Aziraphale was staring at him with his usual What-In- God’s-Holy-and-Wonderful-Name-Are-You-Doing, You-_Absolute_\- Moron- of- a- Demon Glare he had perfected over the millennia, and Sarah’s eyes looked about ready to pop out of her head; but Crowley kept going. “You talk about trying to shield the eyes of random English children from some supposed sssin, but turn your back on the rampant alcoholism in your backyard? Tsk. ‘May ye without sin throw the first ssstone—"”  
“Enough!” The woman shrieked. Heads were turning now. “Don’t you dare quote the Scriptures at me!”  
“Why not?” Crowley taunted, leaning forward. “Apparently you don’t know them well enough if you’re buying into whatever shite some human told you.”  
“Now, Crowley…” Aziraphale gripped his arm, a warning. Not like Crowley was very good at taking reprimands to heart.  
“Get out of him!” Sarah commanded.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Hidden knowledge? Hissing when you speak? Not to mention, tempting a man so familiar with the Scriptures into sodomy? Get out of this man, demon. His soul is not yours to take!”  
Aziraphale and Crowley stared at each other, an entire conversation passing between them without a single sound.  
_Did she just try to exorcise you?_  
_ Eyup._  
_ Do you want me to miracle us out of this? She’ll never know what happened_.  
_Oh, but I want her to._  
_ Crowley, you had better not—_  
_ But of course,_ Crowley had already made up his mind. It had started as a chuckle, deep in his chest. By the time it grew to a rather cartoonish maniacal laugh, Aziraphale rolled his eyes. _Laying it on a bit thick, dear._  
“Stop it! Stop laughing like that! Be gone, I command you, in Jes—”  
“Oh, ssssshut up, will you?” Crowley snarled. He let his fangs come into full view. He stood, before Sarah Anderson could blink, he was towering over her. She took several steading breaths and stared straight back up into his sunglasses.   
“I am not afraid.” It would have been valiant, were it not foolish.  
“Your mistake.”  
“I am not afraid.”  
“You see—” Suddenly the reek of sulphur, and longer lie to herself. She was very afraid. “—you can’t exorcise me.” He leaned forward. He relished the horror rolling off her. He could almost see the fear of damnation that her church had fed her for decades creep onto her face, just as he sensed the years of nightmares and insanity yet to come. In a practiced, fluid motion, he took off his sunglasses, and stared deep into her eyes.  
“Even Hell doesn’t want me back.”  
“Enough, Crowley!” Called a booming voice, just as Sarah Anderson began to scream. Crowley whipped around to find Aziraphale had unleashed his wings. A warm white light emitted from him. Crowley’s skin began to itch, and he had a feeling that the angel was unleashing just enough holy light to annoy him. Sarah Anderson, for her part, was still the epitome of abject horror but she was much calmer about it.The rest of the patrons of Saint James’ Park within 20 metres were all fell somewhere on the spectrum of befuddlement and panic. Clumsy angel. Crowley snapped his fingers, and everything froze. Aziraphale raised his eyebrow.  
“A little mind swipe and sedation never hurt anyone, angel, now hurry up with whatever holier-than-thou blessing you’re on about, you got five minutes.” Crowley stomped past him and sat back down on the bench, arms crossed. Irritated he was still within range of the holy light, he unleashed his own wings and wrapped them around himself. The itching was soothed a little, but he was still going to have strong words with Aziraphale later. Probably poor timing: Sarah Anderson began to work herself up into hysterics again. Aziraphale shot Crowley a dirty look, but the demon only shrugged.  
“Be not afraid, Sarah.” Aziraphale commanded gently. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She calmed instantaneously, the fear everything but ripped out of her. “That’s it, very good.” The angel miracled up some water and offered her a drink. She took slow sips. She kept glancing at Crowley, the way a frightened cat never quite takes its eyes off a threat. Crowley returned her nervous gazes with sneers.  
“Best not look at my companion over there, dear, he’ll only keep antagonizing you. It is his nature after all.” To Sarah, Aziraphale’s tone was that of a kindly man giving soothing advice. To Crowley, who knew better, Aziraphale’s tone was a warning that read: Crowley, if you don’t stop tormenting her, I will make you regret it later.  
_Try me, angel._  
_ Kindly shut up._  
“Why… if he’s a demon? How do I know you’re not a demon too?” Sarah took a wobbly step back, only to be caught by Aziraphale’s wing.  
“Careful now. You’re still in a sort of shock.”  
“Alright, so you’re an angel.” Behind them, a noise that was somewhere between a hiss and a snicker escaped Crowley; her self-assuredness in her assessment in supernatural beings amused him to no end. “Why are you… associating… with a demon?  
“Well,” Aziraphale blushed. “See, in the Beginning… Rather, I was to guard the Eastern Gate and—”  
“Two minutes, Aziraphale,” Crowley warned.  
“Right. I’m afraid I must give the short version then. Well… I suppose the Almighty instilled a need for company in all souls. Wiley serpent that he is, my demon and I have been on the planet together for 6,000 years and—”  
“No, I mean… you called him your husband. If you’re an angel, you don’t lie, right? So that means you’re really… in a relationship?”  
“Oh… well, you do know that as supernatural entities, neither of us actually have genders, these are just the bodies we wear so we can interact with the human world?”  
Sarah Anderson blinked at him. Aziraphale’s wings fluttered anxiously.  
“By which I mean to say, if we wanted to, we could be any gender we wanted! Crowley is very beautiful as a woman I must say!”  
_Gonna have to work harder than that to get in my good graces, angel._  
_ You don’t have good graces, serpent._  
Sarah Anderson blinked at Aziraphale again. “So… why do you both choose to look like men if homosexuality is a sin?”  
“You think I have a problem with sin?”  
“Oh dear, you think that’s a sin?”  
Crowley and Aziraphale spoke at the same time, and the angel blushed. “Crowley, please?”  
“Nkg.”  
“Sarah. Do you honestly think that the Written Word has not been tampered with over the millenia?”  
“But… but the Word is Inspired and Inerrant!”  
“And Ineffable,” Aziraphale said with a little smile.  
“One minute left, angel,” Crowley reminded. He was unable to muster any spite this time. Aziraphale held Sarah’s hands in both of his.  
“Child, listen. God works in mysterious ways, yes?” She nodded. “Have you memorised Corinthians 13:13?”  
“And these three remain,” she said slowly, as if in a bit of a trance, “Faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”  
“Very good!” Aziraphale’s holy light pulsed a bit. Crowley, had he not been distracted by the sudden increase of itchiness that was spreading on his corporation, would have seen that the grass became just a bit greener. “You always were so attentive in Sunday School.” Sarah Anderson blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “All this time… I carried so much hatred in my heart.” She began to confess… though it was less of a confession and more of a string of babbling.  
“Hush now,” Aziraphale whispered as he cupped her face in his hands. “You were misguided. You were taught to hate sinners, instead of the sin that drove them, and taught that certain treasures were tarnish. What you weren’t told enough is that you are forgiven.”  
She cried in earnest now. She wept into Aziraphale’s shoulder. He flinched away at first— he hated when his coat got even the least bit ruined— but embraced her even as he tucked his wings back into the aether.  
People began milling about again, not the slightest bit interested in the scene. Aziraphale whispered comforting words as Sarah stopped shaking. Crowley was pretty sure it was from Proverbs. Or Psalms. Or one of those Old Testament poetry books he didn’t care about. “Thank you,” Sarah said, finally letting go of the angel. “Oh… oops. I’m… sorry about the coat, that’s kinda gross of me.”  
“Not to worry.” With a snap, Aziraphale’s coat was completely dry again. Sarah smiled. Crowley was almost impressed how quickly she adjusted to casual supernatural habits. It’s reality, angel... She glanced back over at Crowley, and Aziraphale nodded, blue eyes beaming.  
“Sir? Mister… Crowley, did you say?”  
“And what about it?”  
She took another deep breath and walked towards him. He stood, putting his sunglasses back on. He had no clue what she was on about, but there was no way in Anywhere he was going to be looked down at. So, he stood.  
“I’m… I’m so sorry.” She said, looking at her shoes.  
“Yeah you— wait what?”  
“It isn’t my place to judge. Mister Aziraphale reminded me of that. I don’t know if this means much to you, but I hope that… well I hope that you two can stay together. For all Eternity.” Crowley was grateful for his sunglasses, for he found himself blinking many more times than was necessary.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“I mean… I mean I was wrong before. To judge you. For being together. Or for any gay or lesbian or whatever it is nowadays for being together. And…” she took a breath and grasped Crowley’s hand. He wanted to yank it back, but for some reason, found himself just… accepting it. Accepting her touch. Her hope. “I hope that when… I hope to see you and Mister Aziraphale again. At the Pearly Gates.”  
Crowley scoffed. “Let’s not push our luck.” Sarah shared his laugh and began to walk off, after giving Aziraphale a handshake. “Who knows?” she said as she walked off. “God works in mysterious ways!”  
“Guess so,” Crowley said to no one in particular.  
“Well… that was interesting.” Aziraphale seemed satisfied. Sickeningly so. “Lunch?”  
“What the Heaven was that about?” Crowley said through gritted teeth. “Showing your wings in public?”  
“May I remind you that you were the one who showed her your eyes, dear?” he replied calmly.  
“Well? She deserved it. Thought you believed in jusssstice? Just imagine how many other couples ssshe’s preached at? Publicly humiliated?”  
“Crowley. What is done is done. She will hold bigotry in her heart no further, I assure you.”  
“Hmph.” He made for the Bentley before the angel could protest. There would be more, he thought to himself. More people that would try to separate them, and not just over-zealous soccer moms, not even homophobic assholes. Those he could deal with. But what happened when their respective sides decided to check back up on them? Sure, the whole Switch plot covered them for now… but when would that run out? And even if it weren’t Beelzebub and Gabriel… what about Satan? Or even more terrifying… the Almighty? Sure, they had averted the supposed Great Plan once, but who was to say that the Almighty’s Ineffable Plan was in their favour. He couldn’t exist the rest of eternity without his angel, not after—  
“Crowley!” Aziraphale had been calling after him for some time, but had finally caught up. “Crowley, please, I know I may have went a little… oh… oh dear no.” Crowley didn’t have to say anything. Aziraphale could feel the sense of loss that was poisoning his husband’s aura, and he knew exactly what it meant. “Come here. Please.”  
“Angel… I—”  
“I know, my dear. It’s alright.” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s middle and held on for dear life. Aziraphale, not quite sure what to do with his hands, reached up to pet the shock of auburn hair on Crowley’s head.  
“You don’t know that.” He laughed, a sad sorrowful thing, “It’s ineffable, remember? No way to know that this doesn’t just end up all pear-shaped.”  
“Well…” Aziraphale placed a kiss on his husband’s forehead before looking at him, noses touching. “You know what my favourite part of Corinthians 13 is, my dear?  
“Scriptures again, angel?”  
“Well, if you’re worried about the Almighty’s plans for you and me, it’s fitting, yes?” Aziraphale took the short puff of air out of Crowley’s nose as a sign of agreement and continued. “’Love is patient, love is kind,’ everyone knows that bit. But my favourite bit? ‘Love always perseveres.’”Crowley laughed. A genuine, hearty laugh this time. “I sure hope so, angel! Took you six millennia to realize I fancied you.” Aziraphale blushed.  
“Well, I mean… well, you know, dear boy I didn’t—”  
“Oh, shuddup and kiss me.”And somehow, Crowley knew that they would end up okay. Because while all the holy symbols and energy in Creation did its best to snuff him out, the Heaven on his angel’s lips made him feel more alive with each kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Can I get a Wahoo?


End file.
